Some years ago, I was in the section of Central Park in front of the Helmsley Hotel with Kenneth Anger and a "friend" of his named Jay. The reason "friend" is in quotes is because I could not figure out why this guy was hanging out with us. Kenneth seemed to hate him. A while earlier we were at the after party for the New York film festival which had just had a night honoring Kenneth and his films. Jay managed to annoy the hell out of everyone he came in contact with including myself, Albert Maysels and Sylvia Myles. (this opening paragraph is absolutely ridiculous on the name dropping end, but what the hell.)
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| Dr. Anger and I at the Helmsley Hotel, NYC 2006 |
After arguing over the historical significance of some statue that was donated by William Randolph Hearst to the park, Anger chided Jay over his ignorance and then said, "History happens to be everything, and if you don't know it your just an asshole".
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| Masako and Sudosan circa 1971 |
The problem with the past is that it is everything to some degree. It is what we are forged from and in my particular case it is a caged animal. Sometimes I forget that I am not supposed to get so close to the cage. I have spent a great deal of time with therapists trying to sort out why it is that I just see childhood as pure unadulterated horror. Every once in a while when talking memories with somebody in my family, I realize that they didn't see things the way I did, and they actually thought everything was ok. In the case of my good buddy Tacorda, he has managed a way to sort out and eliminate all the things that don't work for him.
I really got to thinking about this when Hide and Yuka took us to this "store" the other night. It is the first time I have seen hoarding done as a profession. We got out of the car and talked to the lady. Yuka actually charmed the pants off her, telling her that she has great skin for her age. She wanted outrageous amounts of money for things (The equivalent of $10 for a used bottle, $5 for a ragged old doll).
I somehow found this enchanting. I tried to get glimpses of the sides of the building to tell how deep it was. Does she have any way into this labyrinth of refuse? Is there anything of value in there? How does she manage to finance this place?
Sometimes my mind is like this shop. To find the objects of value, a ton of dead weight needs to be sorted through. Tokyo, the great cavalcade of sensory stimulation, can trigger a lot of things in there.
I remember watching the breakfast club when I was a lot younger and finding all kinds of angsty truth in the different characters. I don't think I will ever watch that movie again just because of the dance sequence alone, but now being much older my favorite part of the movie has nothing to do with the kids. There is a scene where the janitor and the principal are hanging out talking and the principal asks the janitor what he wanted to be when he grew up. When he says "John Lennon", the principal says, "Don't be a fucking goof Carl".
I think why this still resonates with me today is because that scene was about two guys wondering if what they ended up being is what they could have ever imagined as a child. The truth is that when I was a kid I wanted to be Jimmy Page when I grew up.
At 17, playing music was the most important thing to me on earth. It represented so many things to me, but mostly it meant being truly good at something. It also seemed like a true weapon for battling the horrors of youth and the friendships that I have that are the strongest are those that are somehow related to the creation of it.
The other night we spent a good while looking through a bunch of photo albums that Masako's mom brought out. There was picture after picture of Masako behind the piano performing beginning at the age of 5.
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| Age 5 |
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| Age 7 |
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Age 11
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We then got to the pics where there were these large orchestras of kids on vibraphones, flutes, accordions, and drums. She asked to find her in the pic and after a few scans I said, "Is that you on piano?". For the record there was only one piano, and, yes, it is her (She is the farthest person in the back).
Masako in full Rick Wakeman Form
Another pic shows her as the only bass player in a large group of musicians. These are things that I have been told about in the past. I guess that just seeing this blows my mind now. She will be the first to tell you that she may be a bit rusty, but give her an your to practice and you will quickly find out that there is some mastery under those fingers.
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| For once, Tacorda is not on Bass |
The biggest time of the year in the Ikegami neighborhood is the Oeshiki festival. It is something that I have heard about for a long time but have never been here this time year. This festival started as a funeral procession for the founder of this religion and is over 500 years old.The procession goes by the folks' office and continues all the way up to the temple. The folks set up chairs and tables, there is a ton of food, and a lot of people and friends drop in throughout the night. Being an audio/video Otaku I was wired to the gils, and was recording and filming the different drum groups all night long.
It gave me the same feeling as the time that I got to see Crash Worship years ago. At first the cacophonous sounds and rhythms are a bit disorienting, but quickly find their way into your bones and never quite leave. Of course the nudity, debauchlery and element of shear terror that made Crash Worship such a beautiful experience were absent here, but the beauty of this experience was also undeniable.
After couple of hours, a bunch of us decided to make the walk to the temple, which is only about a mile, but takes over an hour with all the crowds and madness. We came across Hide's friend's drum group and when he pointed me out they invited me in, gave me a drum and I played with them until we got to the foot of the stairs. It was nothing short of magical.
I flashed back to years ago in Mexico City walking through the neighborhood of Coyoacan by myself. All of a sudden a bunch of Hare Krishnas flew out of nowhere and surrounded me playing a beat on drums and bells and I walked with them for about a mile, amazed that it was happening. (For the record, they weren't bald krishnas with strange braided ponytails, but just a bunch of mexican hippies)
We climbed the stairs and made our way into the temple where we were able to play drums with the monk. It was heavy, and the sound was incredible. I later said that if I had found this by myself, I probably would have sat there entranced until it ended hours later.
When we got back things were winding down and only a few drunken friends were still scattered about. My good friend Okoyamasan was there and after he left I had a moment with my wife.
I am starting to feel the sadness of having to go home that always comes when I have less than 24 hours left. This time things were much different to me. When were here last year I truly felt that this place was now my home and that I am part of this family for the long haul. This time, Tokyo is no longer that foreign to me. It is the one place I have ever been where I feel at ease, and feeling at ease is not something that comes easily to me. I find that particularly strange because it is a place where communication is extremely challenging and awkwardness happens on an almost daily basis. That ease obviously has a lot to do with the woman who I am sitting across from, with tears starting to swell in my eyes.
What I said to her is that coming and going from a place like Japan, I could see it seeming like you may have missed something. Most of my friends have been here and a lot of people dream of coming here and when they do, they have very different experiences but all come a way with a lot of love for the people, the culture and the place itself. All I know is that my experience with this country has so far been one where I no longer feel like a tourist. I am getting to see this place from a truly unique perspective and I could not be more grateful.
Very serious and very straight, looking at me as I say these things Masako says, "That's because I'm from here".
It took a second, but this launched us both into laughter.
That is who she is to me. Masako is the person that doesn't allow me off the rails. The aforementioned horrors of youth have no place in her world and every time I seem to be going in that direction, she is there to make things simple. God only knows how much I need that. I try and do the right thing, I really do, but sometimes other things get in the way. Each and every time, she is there to at least suggest to me what the right thing is.
I may not understand what is being said all the time, but I sure as hell can tell how much people here respect her. I would like to think that part of that has to do with how she left and made a life for herself with me in the states. It is not something that a lot of folks from her neck of the woods do. Respect is transferable, and because of her, the way I am treated is unbelievable.
Where I am going with all of this is that when I was 17 and thought that music was the only thing that I was going to do with my life, I could have never imagined these things that are happening now. Whatever that dream was has evolved and I guess the only part of the Jimmy Page dream that has come true is the sloppy guitar playing and wobbly friendship with Kenneth Anger. I decided it was better to marry a rock star.
 Take a bow babe |
The day before we left for Japan, Masako came home from work to find this on the wall. She had no idea it was coming and I still think she wonders why I did it. Maybe after reading this she will understand.
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I am a much different person than I was five years ago and much has to do with her and her breathtaking homeland.
After packing, and getting my haircut by Yuka, we headed back to Ikegami for one last dinner with the family. Shabu Shabu is always a good choice. Everyone said I looked tired, I think I was just more sad than anything else. Leaving this time is especially tough. Like I said before, I may be a foreigner here, but this place is no longer foreign to me.
We were running late and sped through the night to Haneda airport. We were in Hide's jeep and Masako's parents followed closely behind us. It is perfectly legal to have an in dash dvd player that plays while you drive (totally awesome I must add) and we played one of the Yellow Magic Orchestra discs that Sudosan hooked me up with on the way.
In Japan, it's all handshakes and bows, but from me to this group, it is all big hugs.
Until next time........as always.....
...I love you Japan...
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